


Goat twins

by shootertron



Series: Dairybots [6]
Category: The Transformers (IDW Generation One), Transformers - All Media Types
Genre: Gen, Kidfic, Male Lactation, Mechpreg, Single Parents, beastformers, robot nipples
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-13
Updated: 2018-06-13
Packaged: 2019-05-21 21:37:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,079
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14923283
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shootertron/pseuds/shootertron
Summary: Finding a buck was not difficult. But getting pregnant was just the beginning.Sorry folks, there's only smut in the very first part.





	Goat twins

Finding a buck was not difficult. All it took was looking through classified ads on Scrapmetal’s Rummage Sale, and a few electronic messages back and forth. Turmoil stood in the mating chamber with his date - a horned and hoofed goat mech.

“Northstar, I am pleased to meet you.” a fine sire.

“It is an honor to have you, Commander Turmoil.”

He was covered head to toe in shiny grey and white hair and radiated softness and gentleness, despite his impressive bulk. His long ears hung down to his knees and his brushlike tail curled upwards. He had an endearing velvet Roman nose and soft lips.

Turmoil had been told Northstar was a particularly large goatbot. Next to Turmoil he was a small, harmless pet. A hearty looking concubine, but a concubine nonetheless. Turmoil hoped this union would produce bitlets as strong and beautiful.

Turmoil scratched the neck of the buck, stroked his long, floppy ears, running black fingers through his long beard. It was stained and pungent where he had scent marked with his own waste fluids. The buck blubbered loudly at him.

“You’re so big, Commander Turmoil. I might not please you.”

“It is fine. An overload is not what I’m after.”

Turmoil got on all fours and let Northstar mount him.

The buck grunted as he reared up on his hind legs, leaning on Turmoil’s enormous back. Northstar’s long and narrow spike tickled as it entered him.

Three “good ones” later, and Northstar disengaged, licking his crotch clean.

Turmoil gave the buck as “kiss”, admiring his beauty. Northstar blinked, scratching his flanks with his horns.

“I will visit again, if it does not take. Until then, goodbye.”

-

It didn’t take long for Turmoil to feel the newsparks inside of him. Two of them - twins. He rubbed his abdomen, anticipating. He hoped they would take after their sire.

Turmoil barely showed as the kids grew inside of him. There were advantages to being a tank of his size. He went about the business of commanding as usual, roaming the halls of the Deepdweller, filling out paperwork, planning out the fleet’s next move, making sure the troops were all doing their duty. It become a habit for him to rub his belly and talk to the newsparks when he was alone. He could feel them move about and hoped he could meet them soon.

He prepared a place for them: a room deep within the ship. Filled it with soft objects, beautiful sights and sounds: a fluffy bed for the twins to sleep on, a star projector night light, a two-nozzled water dispenser, a toilet box, wallpaper depicting rolling hills and an open sky. A heavy door sealed off the kidding room from the outside, and he’d added safety guards everywhere there was an electrical outlet or a sharp corner.

Turmoil looked around, admiring his work. Suddenly he was overcome with a melancholy feeling - like there was something missing from the picture. He let it pass, knowing there was no point dwelling on the one who could not be here with him.

-

The birth was attended by a single medic, in the kidding room. Turmoil strained and clenched a pillow as the first head poked out. He had his pelvis modified so that he could give birth more easily, but it was still difficult for a mech who had never done this before. The bitlet came out in a gush of fluids, and soon, he was looking at a slime-covered, helpless kid. It was black with white moonspots, with the same floppy rounded nose and floppy ears of its sire. The medic wiped up the fluids and cut the umbilical cord.

Turmoil held the kid in his arms, stroking it tenderly. It bleaked weakly, wriggling on its long legs. He set it down on the ground as he felt the contractions from the second kid.

Soon enough, Turmoil was lying on his back, nursing two healthy goat kids from his abdominal fuel nozzles. The second twin was grey and black, ears adorned by black stripes and hair peppered with white. He lay back, exhausted from the ordeal, but so very glad to see his twins. The kids wagged their little tails as they nursed, and it gladdened Turmoil’s spark.

-  
From then on, Turmoil spent his free time with the twins. Every day, he’d pump out bottles of milk which would be passed on to a babysitter who had the passcode to the kidding room. And when he could, he nursed the two of them himself. Frostflower and Moonsilver grew quickly on Turmoil’s milk, becoming stronger and stronger every day. In a flash, the twins went from barely standing to running after Turmoil on their long legs. They loved to jump and climb, and explore every corner of the kidding room. If Turmoil turned his back, he’d find his twins had climbed on top of him.

“Maa!” they called. Even though they hadn’t mastered speaking yet, they seemed to say “Look what I can do!” and they jumped over each other and did twists in mid-air.

“You two are so talented!” he’d exclaim. It seemed that everything his darling twins did was the most amazing thing he’d ever witnessed.

Turmoil would bring them toys to play with, and show them picture books. He’d lull them to sleep, stroking their sides until they went limp. Moonsilver was always the last to fall asleep, and kept waking to beg Turmoil to stay a little longer. It was hard to resist her plaintive bleats. Sometimes he’d see the two of them fast asleep on the goat bed, curled against each other, eyes closed intently in dreaming. Their little bellies would rise and fall as their motors ran.

Of course Turmoil took as many video as he could!

Eventually the goat twins learned to speak. “Turmoil” “milk” “play” “jump” “potty” - the necessities. Turmoil taught them as many words as he could.

“Decepticon” - he pointed at his badge. “Tank.” “Car.” “Ship.” “Goat.”

He hoped some day they would be able to see the outside world, and not just experience it through picture books and video dramas. Somewhere in the universe, there were fields to frolic in, places to climb, and beautiful skies overhead. Turmoil only hoped the universe would be a better place by the time they were grown.

For now he hugged his kids close and dreamed. They closed their eyes and cuddled close to their “ma”, not caring for worldly troubles just yet.

**Author's Note:**

> Turmoil misses _someone_ , but it's not the sperm donor at the beginning.


End file.
